All this and I’ve still only gotten through a chapter and a half. I have a lot to say. 1,316 words.

First part. Previous part.

Lilina traveled back to Ostia alone. Roy was to remain in
Pherae to oversee the beginnings of the new Lycian Alliance Army. He offered to
send an escort back with her, but Lilina refused. She pitied the bandit who
thought to mess with her in such a black mood.

It almost seemed like an insult that nothing untoward
happened. The sky was clear, the sun was bright, and the roads were relatively
peaceful. She returned to Ostia in one piece, though the sight of her home did
little to soothe her spirits.

“Oh, Lady Lilina!” said the guard at the gate. He was one of
Roy’s people, a young archer named Wolt. “Didn’t expect to see you arriving
with so little fuss, my lady.”

Lilina reigned back her horse. The black palfrey snorted at
the command and shied away from the gate. No matter how Lilina worked with her,
the mare remained liable to startle. There was something to be said for Sacaen
horses, no matter how scruffy they were. They tended to be more ornery than
skittish. Lady Lyndis had tried to breed their stubborn practicality into the
Lycian bloodlines, but the program had ended with her death.

Lilina brought the mare completely to heel before she spoke.
“Wolt, please gather all the members of the Lycian Alliance army and have them
meet me in the throne room in an hour. There are changes you need to be aware
of.”

“Lady Lilina,” he said, offering her a quick bow. “If you
don’t mind asking…it’s not Bern again is it?”

“It’s not Bern,” she said. “At least, not yet.”

An hour was not much time to see to her horse and to make
herself presentable, but Lilina had been doing both of those things for as long
as she could remember. She managed. She always did.

She pulled on the first bliaut that came to hand – one made
from soft violet wool and stitched with designs in thread-of-gold. She didn’t
bother with jewelry or a veil, but pulled her hair back into a thick braid.
That was enough finery for Ostians. It would have to suit the others.

There were less of them than she expected. Roy had taken
only two dozen men with him to Pherae, but the remains of his army did not even
fill up her throne room. She knew that without Etruria’s intervention, Ostia
would have fallen. Given a choice, she might have even made the same one Roy
did. Acknowledging it didn’t make her any less angry. She hadn’t been given a
choice. He could have at least told her.

Lilina mounted the dais steps and settled into the throne.
Like most other things about Castle Ostia, it was no nonsense, a simple
high-backed chair carved out of gleaming ebony. Geometric patterns were carved
into it, making it quite beautiful up close. From afar it seemed solid and
severe. That had suited Ostia, when it was the most powerful region in Lycia.
Now it almost seemed more pretentious than even the gaudiest of gold and gem
encrusted monstrosities common elsewhere.

She took her time, studying the men and women in front of
her. They waited in patient, if not entirely respectful, silence. She had lost
most of her castle guard in the rebellion, and these people had taken over
those responsibilities admirably. Sending them away would weaken her again. But
it might be worse to keep them around, where they could so easily spy on her
defenses and report them to the rest of Lycia. Which was more important,
physical security? Or political?

Lilina considered these questions as she considered the
people. There would always be spies in Ostia. Perhaps it was better for them to
be spies you knew, rather than those you didn’t. But those spies she and her
father knew before, well, none of them had been in martial positions. And that,
in this time of war and unrest, might be the most important thing of all.

Finally, she addressed the gathered soldiers. “Lord Roy has
been officially named as Lycia’s general,” she said. “The army is being
reformed. If any of you have commissions, they are renewed. You will report to
him in Pherae at the earliest possible opportunity. If you wish to join the
army officially, you may enquire with him. Those who have no wish to continue
fighting are free to return home.”

“And that’s it then, is it?” said one of the innumerable
mercenaries Roy had recruited. “You’re just tossing us out, just like that?”

“As for the mercenaries among you,” said Lilina, “I
understand that most of your contracts were with my father. But he is no longer
the general and Ostia no longer has any ties to the army, or its treasury. If
you want to renew your contracts, you’ll need to speak to Roy. I will ensure
that your bills of service get to him.”

It was petty, that. Childish, even. Hector had made the
contracts, and Ostia most likely should be footing the bill. But if Pherae
wanted to be the power in Lycia so badly, they could learn to deal with what
that entailed.

It seemed to satisfy the mercenaries, at least. They left
first – their time was too valuable to waste it here. The soldiers followed,
leaving singly or in groups, but none questioning her orders.

“Bors,” Lilina called.

He had been standing at the back of the room. Now he hurried
forward and dropped to one knee. “Yes, my lady?”

“You’re now the highest-ranking knight left in Ostia. I’m
naming you knight commander,” she told him. “I understand this unexpected
departure will put a strain on you. However I trust you to fill the gaps with
worthy Ostians. I will expect a list of potential guards on my desk by the end
of the week.”

Bors paled slightly, and Lilina felt bad for throwing the
responsibility at his feet. But she knew he was up to the task. “It will be
done, my lady.” He bowed slightly lower before climbing to his feet and
trailing after the retreating soldiers.

That left only two people waiting in the throne room:
General Cecilia, and Sue.

“It’s a poor ruler who makes decisions in bitterness,”
Cecilia warned.

Lilina just looked at her. What could she say? That she
wasn’t bitter? That she was doing her best? One was a lie, the other a sure
sign of weakness. But Cecilia was still waiting for her response. “I will do
what is best for Ostia, lest you have any objections.”

“Only,” said Cecilia, “a warning. Don’t take any paths you
might regret, later.” So saying she left the room, going through the opposite
door than the soldiers had, the one that led to the private suites.

That left Sue.

“And what of you?” Lilina asked her. “Will you go back to
the plains?”

Sue shook her head. “There’s not much there for me now but
graves. I was thinking…” but she trailed off, the way she usually had when they
were children.

“What?”

“I thought I might stay here, for a while,” Sue said. “Roy
has been kind enough but he doesn’t understand. Not what we’ve been through,
not who we are.”

Lilina leaned back into the throne which was imposing, yes,
but also damned uncomfortable. Like everything else about her life these days. “To
be honest, Sue, I could really use a friend.”

Sue stood awkwardly, twirling a lock of dark green hair
around her finger. “Do you want to go somewhere and just…talk for a while?”

Lilina looked at her, thinking about how improbable it was
that they would become friends, now,
which is what their parents had wanted all along. They’d never got on before,
but maybe they just weren’t trying hard enough. She stood up.

“There’s nothing I’d like better. And I know the perfect
place to go.”

I’m very angry about Lycian politics. 1,849 words.

First Part. Previous Part.

If anyone had asked, which no one did, Lilina would have
said she had already had enough. She had lost her mother, her father, her home,
and many of the staff she had trusted in all her life. Surely that was enough
to make up for any wrongs she had committed. Surely the great cosmic scales
were now balanced. If anyone had asked, that is what she would have said.

And she would have been wrong.

After Etruria’s intervention, Bern’s activities subsided to
a low murmur. Peace became the order of the day. And then the message arrived.

Roy came to find her in her father’s office.

It was a bittersweet place to spend time. Lilina remembered
playing on the floor while her parents ran their country, bickering good
naturedly until an acceptable course of action could be found. She remembered
later, when it was just her father and her, seated side-by-side while he taught
her what she would need to know. The office was very large, and very, very
empty. Still, Ostia needed to be run and Lilina was still the one to run it,
and this office was still the most convenient place to work.

General Cecilia had little desire to involve herself in
Ostian affairs and left most of the managing up to Lilina. During the day this
made Roy’s actions more palatable. It was still Lilina behind the massive
hardwood desk, still her name on the orders, still her that the people looked
to. At night, however, Lilina could admit to herself that she resented being
turned into a puppet ruler of her own country. Parroting Etrurian orders,
however infrequent, left a sour taste in Lilina’s mouth that only fed her
growing anger and malcontent.

She had mostly avoided Roy since General Cecilia had
arrived, citing work as a reason. He respected her enough to stay away from her
office, until today.

Lilina did not look up from the contract she was reviewing
when someone knocked on the door. She merely said, “Enter!” and kept reading.
She only looked up when Roy spoke.

“This came for us today, Lilina.” Roy slid a rolled up piece
of parchment to her across the desk and Lilina put aside her current work to
look at it.

The message was short, but brief. “Your father is calling a
Lycian council?” she asked, though she could read the scroll as well as anyone
else.

Roy shrugged. “He is the largest power left in Lycia now
that-”

“Now that my father is dead and Ostia is delegated an
Etrurian plaything,” Lilina said flatly. She was too tired and too bitter to
play those kinds of games.

“Lilina…”

Lilina stared at him, and Roy stared back. He really had
changed, he was calmer now, more decisive. He understood, certainly, that his
actions had hurt her, but he didn’t regret them. If he did, he would have
looked away. If he wanted her forgiveness, he would have looked away.

So that was the way it was. Lilina sighed.

“It’s reasonable for Lord Eliwood to call a meeting,” she
said. “Many changes have happened. And given his illness, it is reasonable for
him to ask us to travel to Pherae rather than hosting them at Ostia as we
always have before.” Although, she added to herself, we both understand that
Etruria’s involvement is more pressing than either of those things.

“If you don’t mind,” Roy said, “I thought I would see to
preparations. We can leave the bulk of the army here. It should be an easy
enough ride with only a small force as escorts.”

Lilina waved a hand. “Do what you think best. We can make it
in good time if we leave the day after tomorrow.”

Roy inclined his head and saw himself out. Lilina returned
to her contract, but she couldn’t concentrate. She could only think about the
upcoming council meeting and what it was going to mean.

Castle Pherae had changed very little in the past few months
since Lilina had been there, but she had changed so much it seemed different.
The white stone walls that had once felt so bright and happy now felt
impersonal and cold. The colorful banners and tapestries that had fascinated
her as a child now looked garish and out of place. Roy, changed from his war
gear to a finely woven short bliaut and parti-colored hosen looked odd and
unfamiliar.

Lilina too had dressed up, in a tightly fitted bliaut, with
some of the expensive jewelry her father had gifted her draped around her neck
and a lace veil over her teal hair. The face that greeted her eyes in the
mirror seemed just as unfamiliar as the castle, or Roy, or anything else these
days.

All of the men Roy had picked to escort them were of Pheraen
birth. But even those few men she had come to know looked different here. They
had put off the practical clothing of war for their ceremonial garb. Perhaps
Lilina should have insisted on having something to do with the preparations
after all – she now felt her lack of allies clearly, as she should have all
along.

Everything was bright and gay and utterly at odds with
Lilina’s increasingly black mood.

The no-nonsense conference room with its plain oaken table
came as a relief, though the other lords, just as fancily dressed as anyone
else present, undercut that effect slightly.

Lord Eliwood was already seated at the head of the table.
Once each seat had been filled, he opened up remarks. “I think you all for
coming,” he said, looking to each of the attending marquesses in turn. “I
called this meeting to address all of the recent changed to our fair
city-states. First among these is the lost of our dear friend, Lord Hector of
Ostia.”

A low murmur rose in the room and Lilina felt the eyes of
everyone in the room turn to look at her. She kept her eyes fixed stubbornly
ahead, gazing at Lord Eliwood. He seemed as calm as he ever had, but as Lilina
continued to gaze at him, she saw he was more tired and drawn than even his
illness could account for. He was far more changed than he should have been,
after only a few short months apart. She remembered that Lord Eliwood had been
her father’s best friend, and that Hector’s death must have affected Eliwood
almost as much as it had affected her.

“Lord Hector wished his daughter to succeed him to the
throne,” Eliwood said. “I see no reason to dispute that. All of my sources
indicate that she is doing a perfectly admirable job managing the region.” For
this, Eliwood did not give anyone time to dispute his claims. Lilina did not
quite breathe a sigh of relief – it would have been far too obvious. But she
did feel as if a weight lifted off her shoulders. She had been afraid that the
marquesses wouldn’t support her claim, especially now with Etruria muddying the
waters. She remembered, too, what her father had told her. Most of the Lycian
territories resented Ostia for its power and for its attitudes towards more
common Lycian traditions. This would have been a perfect time for the other
lords to attempt to bring Ostia to heel. With Eliwood backing her, though,
Lilina at least could feel as secure as possible.

Later on, Lilina would think unkindly on her optimism.

Eliwood continued, oblivious to Lilina’s thoughts and to the
few marquesses signaling to be recognized. “Much more troubling is the death of
Lord Orun. He did not leave any heirs to govern Toria and it would be less than
kind to leave his steward to manage everything. We will need to send someone
trustworthy to oversee the area.”

Clamor broke out immediately after those words, loud enough
to cover Lilina’s sharp intake of breath. Uncle Orun too? Lilina remembered,
vaguely, hearing the news, but somehow it had not sunk in on top of everything
else.

She watched the lords squabbling for the right to take
Toria.

All things considered, Toria was an offshoot of Ostia,
having belonged to Lilina’s grandmother since her first marriage. It was a
gesture of goodwill on Ostia’s part that the land retained its independence,
rather than being included in the bridal properties when she married Lord
Ostia. With Orun’s death, the lands should have gone to Hector, and then to
Lilina.

She would not sue for her rights in this case. Toria was a
small territory but no less of a prize – good enough to have distracted the
lords from the assertion that she should remain in control of Ostia. If Lilina
tried to rightly claim Toria, it would be like putting meat in front of a pack
of hungry dogs.

Angry she might be, but she was hardly a fool. She kept her
silence as Marquess Araphen emerged from the fracas triumphant.

That done, Eliwood began again. “There are other matters to
think of as well. Lord Hector was both the head of the Lycian Alliance and the
general of her army. These are positions that will need to be filled anew.”

This time there was no clamor. There was absolute silence,
but not a peaceful silence. It was the silence of the forest when the wolves
are hunting, the heavy silence right before a wild summer storm, the silence of
some dozen lords now realizing they had been handed the tools to strike Ostia’s
death blow. She had lost her lord, her independence, her sister state, and now,
at last, was a way to take every last vestige of power from her.

Lilina balled her hands up in the soft velvet of her skirts
and said nothing. Ostia had ruled Lycia for nearly as long as there had been a
Lycia. Even her father, not so much older than she, had taken place as the head
of the Lycian Alliance with little struggle. But then, he had just made an
advantageous if controversial marriage alliance with Caelin, and had Eliwood’s
support.

Eliwood had no intention of backing Lilina in this, she
could see it. His gaze was fixed on Roy, and his eyes gleamed with the same
predatory light being exhibited by all the lords around the table.

They would take this from her, all of them, and they would
do it with smiles on their faces. Eliwood had backed her control of Ostia. But
what was Ostia, after all, stripped of power, dignity, and autonomy?

But Lilina they underestimated. This would not be the end
for Ostia. She made a promise, to her father and mother, to her people, to
herself. This was not the end. Ostia was not finished as long as Lilina was not
finished and one day soon all of these men would come crawling back to Ostia’s
conference room to beg her forgiveness.

Even as Eliwood took Lycia as a jewel for his crown, even as
Roy took the army, even as these lords bickered and plotted and cut Ostia to
shreds, Lilina smiled.

Part Six.